Dans Les Yeux du Spectateur
by Suna Kochou
Summary: A full life, a werewolf fiance, her whole life ahead of her... Hannah had it all. Or so she thought, before someone very special and unexpected came along to let her know that there was more to life than just her own somewhat hairy outlook...


_**A/N: Hi guys! This is Spira again, with the (perhaps) anticipated pseudo-sequel to **_**Before I Knew_ by the amazing, lovely, wonderful Metwi! Aka, if you start to read this, you may not understand... or, at least, you won't understand nearly as well as if you read the aforementioned story by the aforementioned author._**

**_I really, really hope you guys enjoy it. I worked hard, and hopefully it'll pay off now. Enjoy!_**

_

* * *

_

_Her golden eyes squinted up at the dark clouds that poured their woes and misfortunes upon all of the mortal beings below, as if expecting them to take their pain from them. She scoffed as an angry bolt of lightning screamed out of the sky, illuminating her hair, which proved to be rain-soaked brownish black, and her face, ghastly pale even considering the uncompromising light of the unbridled electricity. She let out a low hiss as the sheet of water thickened, which caused her to narrow her eyes against the torrent.  
How she hated thunderstorms.  
The muted, warm breath of her companion on her shoulder reminded her that she was not alone, as well as of her current objective. He chuckled under his breath."You still don't like thunderstorms, do you…?"  
"I believe that I have a fairly valid reason not to."  
"I never said you didn't… I understand. But really, we should get going if we want to arrive there before an unfeasible hour."  
It was her turn to chuckle then, and she shook her head as the moon peeked out through a cloudless patch.  
Her sharp fangs glittered in the sudden moonlight.  
"They know that no hour is unfeasible for me."  
"Yes, they do. However, if you want to arrive before they all fall asleep, it would be best to get going."  
After a moment's more reflection at the depressing gray clouds in the sky, she lowered her head. The moon passed out of its small area of clarity as she nodded her head.  
"Let us depart."_

"I don't know what that referee is talking about; his foot was in the line. Absolutely in the line. No doubt about it."

The large man giving his own opinion of the playout of events on the television nodded his head assuredly, as if his ruling overrided that of the black-and-white clad official on the football field hundreds of miles away. After all, no matter how loud the couch-commentator yelled, he was in Washington, and the football game on the television was being played in Orlando, Florida. Regardless, he still crossed his arms over his slightly-worn white tee-shirt, then tapping the foot that poked out from his somewhat baggy jeans in impatience for the man to simply realize his mistake and amend the statement.

The only response to his assertion was a shake of the head and a laugh from the couch beside him. The girl's reddish-brown hair tossed like some kind of a mane around her head, and crowned her tall, rather slim figure with a sort of defiant messiness. She wore a simple green tee-shirt with the words 'La Push Cliff-Diving Team Mascot' placed upon it in bright yellow letters by what seemed to be an inexperienced screenprinter of sorts. Her jeans were somewhat faded and worn, with a numerous amount of former grass stains and almost-gone dirt smudges from who-knows-when. Laughing slightly harder when the man next to her continued his rant, the girl placed her hand on his shoulder in a loving gesture, followed by an even more loving smile.

"Paul, you know they can't hear you, right?"

"I know, Hannah, but still! The guy can't even see straight, I bet. He needs glasses. Get an eye check, buddy!" came the bellow that was released at the television, which was only followed with an even more restrained giggle from Hannah. Paul looked back at her then, laughing himself as his black hair fell into his deep brown eyes.

They were quite clearly infatuated with each other.

Just looking at this scene, one would never have been able to tell that the towering, slightly hairy man upon the couch was, in fact, a werewolf, or that he had imprinted upon and was planning to marry the eighteen-year-old sitting next to him... though the fact that she had accepted may not have been terribly surprising.

Even more surprising may have been the idea that just six months earlier, the two of them had gone through the most trying time of their lives, which had left Hannah with multiple head wounds that took her three weeks in a coma and some to recover from... because of vampires. Hannah had become accustomed to calling them leeches (as she had reason to, considering her bad experience with them and her fiance's tendency to call them similar names), and she'd since harbored a deep hatred and fear for them. It was a good thing that her fiance fought them for his proverbial "living". After all, it was his and the other werewolves' job to protect the land they all lived on (aka the indian reservation La Push) from those bloodsuckers in the first place.

At least, so she thought.

"Okay, now you're just doing it to annoy me, Paul!" Hannah said, a joking frown on her face as her fiance continued his overly dramatic callout of the apparently wrong sports calls.

"Oh? Would you rather I use a different way to entertain you?" After this somewhat suggestively toned statement and a wiggle of the black eyebrows of the native american man, a vicious tickle attack ensued. This lasted for several minutes, and eventually deflated into a happy, worn-out cuddle.

In short, despite the fact that the two were very supernaturally involved, this couple was like many soon-to-be-married lovers; they were very much in love. They cuddled, they kissed, they argued and made up... they were normal, for the most part.

Without warning, Paul's head snapped up from its previous position gently on top of of Hannah's head. He looked around in an alert manner, his nose twitching slightly. That was a smell that he was much too familiar with. He stiffened, which caused Hannah to lift her head as well. She went slightly on the alert when she saw the look in Paul's eyes; that was never a good look. "Paul..? What's wrong...?"

He stood up in one swift motion, sweeping his love up with him and gently, but hurriedly, placing her behind the couch, on the other side of the door.

"Stay still, Hannah. Don't say anything, please, and keep low," Paul warned, crossing the room to be between the couch and the door of the home the two shared.

This quiet, low, tense tone from Paul only meant one thing. One thing that made Hannah tear up and shake her head. Not here, not now.

_Not vampires...  
_  
To Hannah's horror, the doorknob began to move slightly as someone - some_thing_ - began to turn the handle from the other side. Hannah cursed her luck mentally - she'd forgotten to lock the door for the night. She just hoped that this mistake wouldn't cost both her and her fiance dearly... After all, the memories of a few months earlier were still fresh and painful in her mind. That sort of captivity, starvation, injury and fear... It simply couldn't be forgotten. Paul had been so shaken after she finally got out of there that when she wanted to go camping with her friends, he nearly blew a gasket. Regardless, and needless to say, Hannah was worried about how Paul would react to a vampire being in their home.

And what would happen if she got kidnapped again...? She couldn't bear that thought.

Her mind had begun to race almost hysterically when it was suddenly hushed with pure terror.

The door had opened.

The night outside was very dark - it was simply pouring outside, and thus the black, rain-bearing, thunder-saddled clouds completely masked the night's waxing gibbous. Hannah just barely peeked around the edge of the couch in a sort of morbid curiosity when she heard nothing for a total of about five minutes. She saw Paul, stiff and appearing to remain and appear calm and collected, despite his obvious tension.

Did she dare look at the door?

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her breathing before she looked toward the dark doorway, just as a lightning flash illuminated the back of the person standing just far enough from the door to keep the light from the home from shining upon his or her face. The lightning flash was bright and startling, which revealed the silhouette of a woman.

From what Hannah could see, she appeared to be younger than Hannah was, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years of age. She was wearing a long dress, at least to her ankles, if not longer. Her hair was cropped short, with longer wisps framing her face. One of the main things that Hannah noticed, however, was the fact that her skin tone, which was highlighted around the edges of her hands, was porcelain-white.

She was most definitely a vampire.

This confirmation sent Hannah into a near-panic, but she quickly reminded herself that she had to be quiet and still. She didn't want to alert the leech to her presence. In her opinion, that was almost like writing "Hello. I'm a human and the fiancee of a werewolf. Feel free to abduct and/or eat me at any point in time!" right on the forehead. Thus, she bit her lip in hysterical terror and waited.

Hannah heard the girl walk through the threshold into the home. A voice that reflected the voice of a sixteen or seventeen-year-old, like Hannah predicted, spoke up into the room. It was strangely sweet and innocent, and yet had a layer of taint underneath it that rose goosebumps on Hannah's skin.

"Why... Hello there, Paul."

Paul cleared his throat nervously, an attempt at being casual.

"Oh, uh... H-Hey... Amilia..."

_Amilia_? Hannah thought confusedly. _Wait, he knows who she is...? By name?_ That struck the confused Hannah as extremely odd. She was a vampire, wasn't she? The way that Paul talked, he hated every single bloodsucker "alive"... So why did he know her by name? And why wasn't he threatening her little mosquito of an existence at the moment? _C-Come on, Paul... Do your big scary werewolf thing...  
_  
"_Quoi_...? What's this I smell?"

"Nothing. You don't smell anything... U-Uhm... Well, w-wait, I mean, I was just, uh... working out, and... m-my shirt is... sweaty. Really sweaty. That's what you smell."

The vampire let out a low hiss, which made Hannah jump. However, the hiss wasn't at all angry. Just annoyed.

"Oh, _mon dieu_. Paul, Paul, Paul. You're such a bad liar. No, I don't smell you. I know your scent... But I think I know what I do smell..."

Hannah had to stifle a sob as she saw a girl walk around the couch, looking straight down at her.

Her skin was, in fact, the same white porcelain that Hannah thought that she saw from the doorway. Her dress was ankle-length and black, with long sleeves. The front of it was somewhat low-cut, but part of this was simply an appearance that was given due to her large breasts. Surprisingly enough, this was one of the things that Hannah noticed, since the only female leech she'd seen before was Jane of the Volturi, and she was quite flat - this one had to have been at least a DD, if not bigger. But, regardless, she spent little time on that. Around the bloodsucker's neck was a lavendar choker with what seemed to be a family crest embroidered into it. Her hair was of a dark chocolate colour, and framed her face perfectly, which included her strange, orangish-gold eyes...

The girlish face phased itself into a smirk, and she folded her arms before shifting her weight onto one of her legs.

"I thought I smelled a female..."

* * *

**_A/N: Ah? Aaaah?_**

**_Yeah, yeah, I know it's short. But I have you on your toes, yes?_**

**_... I hope so. ^^;_**

**_Thanks so much for reading!_**

**_Paul (c) Stephenie Meyer  
Hannah (c) Metwi  
Amilia (c) moi._**


End file.
